Unwind
by absolutelycancerous
Summary: "Oh, Sve," Finland sighs, playful, as he slides his hands up Sweden's arms. "It can't be healthy to be as reserved as you are." Smutty SuFin, hoorah.


Finland comes home with a crash as he enters the door.

The crash, Sweden notes, is his tossing his briefcase to the floor, uncaring of the loud noise it makes, which in turn, sends Hanatamago whining and scrambling away to the other side of the house.

Sweden also notes how tired Finland looks, his head tilted up a bit with his brows drawn together, eyes closed. He looks as if he's been told he's missed the last train for the night, but, seeing as he's here at Sweden's right now, that certainly isn't what happened.

"Hi," Finland sighs after a long moment of trying to collect himself, offering a tired smile that makes Sweden's heart ache- Finland sounds even more worn-out than Germany tends to get, which is actually kind of impressive, but saddening at the same time.

"Rough day?" Sweden offers as Finland practically melts out of his coat, lazily slopping it onto the coat hanger with a loud sigh.

He looks slowly to Sweden, smiling that same little smile. "Exhausting. But," he adds, a little more like his cheery self, "The ride here was okay! No delays or anything, and hardly anyone on the train," he says, and Sweden feels a little delighted Finland seems happy to be here in his home, just like he is every other weekend.

Sweden brushes his hands on his pants out of idle habit. (Also because he's a little flustered- Finland always gets him flustered, and he never knows what to do with himself.) "Come in- yer no stranger."

Finland smiles, following Sweden out to the kitchen and takes a seat at the table, sighing as he loosens his tie a bit and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt. He melts into the seat a bit, sighing in relief.

"How are you, Sve? I completely forgot to ask, I'm sorry," he admits as he watches Sweden go about pouring them coffee, from a pot he's had ready for the past fifteen minutes.

Sweden sets a mug before Finland before sitting down across from him with a little smile on his lips (trying, trying, trying to be better with the intent stares) as he looks to Finland. "M'well. Not too much happens when yer not here."

Finland laughs a little, taking a sip of coffee and sighing a soft "_oh, that's good_" against the lip of his mug. "Things happen when I'm not here, I'm sure! You work just as much as I do- probably more," Finland directs to him, and Sweden shrugs modestly.

They made idle chat like that for a bit, as they often do the first few hours when Finland comes to visit. However, Finland seems very stiff tonight, the tension of work doesn't seem to leave him with just conversation and coffee. Sweden feels very uncomfortably forward when he asks, "Y'sure you're okay?"

Finland blinks at him, smiles, and puts his elbows up on the table, holding his face in his hands. "Sorry," he sighs out, but Sweden can still hear his smile, so it's not too worrying. "I guess I'm just trying too hard to relax- I'm sorry, I don't mean to make it difficult for you."

Sweden shakes his head, slowly getting up to take their mugs to the sink. However, he forgoes returning to his seat, instead stepping behind Finland's, his large hands coming to rest on Finland's stiff shoulders, slowly beginning to massage him there. He's rewarded with a low moan, Finland tipping his head back with closed eyes and a wide, lazy grin on his face.

"Oh, _Sve_," he coos, nuzzling Sweden's forearm. "_That's_ something you could do f- oh, _wow- _for me."

Sweden goes a little pink, but Finland's feeling good, and he supports that with all of his soul, so he tugs Finland's chair back, easily lifting him up from his seat bridal style, which makes Finland laugh sweetly as he kisses his chin.

"You're a charmer," Finland chuckles, and Sweden smiles a little, because he's kind of right.

He carries him upstairs with a fair bit of effort, but when he heads to the guest bedroom, Finland shakes his head, pressing kisses to Sweden's neck affectionately, so they are quickly redirected to Sweden's room. Sweden lies Finland down on the bed, and Finland quickly wiggles out of his clothing, having no qualms with his pale nakedness as he rolls onto his belly, waiting for Sweden.

Sweden, however, has something perfect for the occasion. Massage oil that Finland had once brought over here awhile back, and then, like most other things he brings, left here, shrugging when Sweden alerted him of the orphaned item. _We'll use it some other time, I'm sure_, he'd told Sweden over the phone, and Sweden smiles a tiny bit at the thought.

He sits on the edge of the bed, which Finland laughs at, swatting him in the elbow gently. "We're not strangers," he teases, pointing behind him. "Sit closer."

Sweden does just that, deciding taking up residence between Finland's legs is okay enough; he doesn't straddle him or anything, just kneels there while he warms the oil in his hands a little, and finally goes in to begin.

It's kind of hard to massage Finland with oil-slick hands, but Finland is moaning and sighing and cooing "_Oh, Ruotsi_," which, damn, makes Sweden kind of have to bite his lip to keep from smiling too hard.

Speaking of hard and things that do that, Sweden really very passionately hopes he's not the only one with a cock fattening up in his pants. He's embarrassed about it (really, really embarrassed; practically mortified), and he doesn't speak a word, only continues digging his thumbs into those harsh knots at Finland's shoulders, which makes Finland make these little noises like "_ahh-ah-ah_!" that are really too akin to certain other noises that Sweden doesn't want to think about. His crotch his kind of rubbing against Finland when he reaches to do the top of his back as it is, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself with any overexcited grinding; if Finland decides he wants something more, he'll ask.

And he does ask, whines the request out, and tells Sweden he doesn't have to wait until Finland gives specific clearance for him to switch tasks, what fun is that? Sweden does not defend himself, because Finland is indeed right, and nudges Finland to roll over onto his back instead.

He's hard, and Sweden would sigh in relief if he breath wasn't taken away; Finland looks good enough to eat.

So, that's what he does.

He wriggles down to get his mouth kissing at Finland's soft tummy, nuzzling just above his aching cock and reveling in Finland's squirming and whimpers of "_Sve, Sve, __**Sverige**_" until he's sure Finland might possibly snap his neck if he doesn't cease his teasing.

Sweden is quick to take Finland's hot cock into his mouth, humming at the taste and letting his eyes flutter closed. It's weird that an organ like such could make Sweden feel so much _delight_, but it really does taste good, tasting like Finland and all, and it give him the utmost of pleasure to be the one cradling the hot organ with his tongue, swallowing him down eagerly.

Finland's cock isn't too long, which is kind of nice, but what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth, and Sweden has to be careful not to nick him with his teeth, which is fairly easy after so much practice. But, in any way or form, Sweden thinks Finland is beautiful, so pale and soft and warm he could just-

Finland garbles out a warning that is in somewhat Swedish but mostly choked-on Finnish as he jerks his hips once, twice, holds the arch in his back up as he comes, tension coiling up as tight as possible before being released with the gasp of "_Sve, oh- Sve_!" that sounds so delicious, Sweden leaves Finland's leaking cock in favor of climbing up to kiss the sound of his name from Finland's gasping lips, letting Finland grind out his waning pleasure into Sweden's leg.

Slowly, Finland recovers from having his mind thoroughly fucking blown via Sweden's mouth, and he smiles wide and happily, looking at Sweden above him with probably the sappiest, silliest expression ever, and he doesn't care at all.

"I think I'm relaxed," he tells him, and Sweden kind of laughs, but he's not really paying attention to smile at Finland all fondly like he normally would, because while Finland got off, Sweden's cock is beginning to ache in his pants; generally, he knows that means it's soon to be gone from lack of stimulation, but still, it's not the most comfortable thing. He doesn't want to ask for anything, though.

If there's anything Sweden's worked on being with Finland, it's not being greedy.

But Finland isn't dumb (on the contrary, Finland is extremely smart), and it takes a minute to piece Sweden's lip biting and pink cheeks together before he peers down between them, smiling lewdly when Sweden shifts his hips back to hide himself.

"Oh, Sve," Finland sighs, playful, as he slides his hands up Sweden's arms. "It _can't _be healthy to be as reserved as you are."

Sweden wants to answer, wants to tell Finland he's just on his best behavior, like he always is when Finland's around, but before any of this is out, he's being slammed down to the bed, Finland pinning him by the shoulders with a triumphant grin.

"Besides," Finland says, unbuttoning Sweden's shirt and parting it to kiss down his chest, down his sensitive belly and pluck open his fly like it hasn't a lick of difficulty to undo someone else's trousers, "I'm pretty self-indulgent, you know that."

"Sweets aren't the same as-"

Finland laughs, charmingly, perfectly, beautifully, shucking Sweden's pants off so roughly, Sweden bites back a gasp.

"Plenty delicious, though," Finland tells him, looking up to him with lascivious eyes before he greedily grabs the base of him, holding his cock up straight as he lowers his mouth onto him, sighing around his length. His tongue flicks at his slit, and Sweden is a goner in less than a second, groaning into the pillows and struggling not to grind against Finland's face. He feels so good, and Sweden kind of doesn't believe he'd even pass this up, and he reaches down not to hold Finland's head or yank his hair, only to smooth it back, so Finland won't look messy when he's done.

Finland looks up and watches him while he sucks him off, and Sweden can barely take it. He looks at him with those wide doe eyes and it'd be so cute if it didn't look so perfectly fucking wicked with Sweden's veiny cock sliding in and out of his pink little O-shaped mouth with obscene smacking noises that are so, so good, Sweden just-

"_Oh_!"

Because Finland is _grabbing his balls_ and rolling them in his little hand delicately, stimulating him in a way Sweden's never actually bothered with trying on himself, but it seems to do the trick, because he's gasping in, in, in, hardly breathing out as he blurts out "_Fin_!" and he's coming, his orgasm hits him like a fucking kick in the back of the head and he writhes, trying so hard not to thrust up into Finland's face as Finland literally _suckles _him dry; it's hotter than it seems it may be.

Sweden watches Finland lick his lips, moving to flop down in Sweden's thrown-aside arm and sigh happily, tangling their legs together a bit as he waits for Sweden's breathing to slow a little.

"That was _nice_," Finland says, smiley and cozy, in Sweden's bed, snuggled with Sweden.

Sweden hums, and Finland looks at him before he can open his mouth again.

"Asking isn't bad."

Sweden blushes, embarrassed, but nods, and Finland sighs again, putting his cheek to Sweden's don't speak anymore after that, because Sweden can't keep his eyes open much longer, and Finland takes off his glasses for him before he ends up nodding off as well, sated and relaxed for the evening, all as planned.


End file.
